Hurt BAMF Dean
by everyone'ssister
Summary: Named for the man of the hour... When Sam is hurt on what is turning out to be a tricky hunt it's up to Dean to save the day. But with all odds against them how long can even the resident badass stay on his own two feet? Prompt!fic hurt!BAMF!Dean
1. Chapter 1

(Requested by a guest who identified themselves as 'Jensena')

To Kristen whose birthday is April 12th and who loves hurt, badass Dean. Though this was originally requested to be posted all at once on April 12th (your special day;) I'll be posting it over the next couple of days, the very last chapter going up on your birthday! So HAPPY BIRTHDAY and here goes nothing...

HURT BAMF DEAN

Chapter 1.

"Damn." Dean states, inhaling happily, a little winded from their hike up to their destination. "Now that's beautiful."

They were on a Wendigo hunt in Colorado, and were still in the low mountains but the air was clear and cool. Nature was beginning to pick its head up again after winter and greenery and white and pink flowers showed up every once and a while. Birds sang and squirrels watched them warily in the trees.

In front of them is a sort of hidden lake, the water smooth like glass the breeze causing small ripples here and there. There peaceful water disappears into a dark yawning mouth of a cave, small trickles of water running over the top and the opening and disturbing the water below.

"Looks like it belongs in the lord of the rings somewhere." Dean goes on marveling

"Hmph." Sam grunts out, dropping his backpack onto the ground, grabbing his water bottle and starts guzzling while slumping to sit on a nearby boulder. Dean looks at him quizzically, sensing something is afoot and joins him, grabbing his own water.

"Don't drown yourself." Dean says drily, "Pretty sure there's nothing I can do about water in your lungs all the way out here, no matter how awesome of a big brother I am."

Sam coughs through his next mouthful of water and sends Dean a sour look. Dean laughs and nudges him, "Cmon chatty Kathy, you know you wanna tell me what's got your thong all in a bunch."

"Eww Dean," Sam whines, finally breaking his silence. "I did not need that image, ever."

Dean mischievously laughs in triumph, "So c'mon tell me." He urges, and Sam suddenly starts giving off the embarrassed little brother vibe and Dean's delight only grows, though that little flutter of concern is still there. He watches Sam with a fond smile growing on his face.

Sam looks down to the ground making circles with his boot toe in the dirt, biting the inside of his mouth as if trying to physically stop himself from telling Dean. "I..." he starts, but then stops and looks off over the water, away from Dean.

"You what?" Dean asks, mocking seriousness, "Don't tell me?" He gasps horrified, "You lost your virginity?"

"Again?" Sam asks with a grin, "I don't think so. How is it you so delicately put it? That bell can't be unrung?"

Dean laughs, all too happy with himself and Sam sighs knowing his brother was like a dog with a bone...he would find out what was bothering Sam if it was the last thing he did...and it would, with all probability, be sooner rather than later.

He sighs heavily and crosses his arms, refusing to meet Dean's eyes. "I did this new detox and now...I'm dehydrated and exhausted and all I can taste is green tea, cucumbers and mint leaves and I think I'm going to be sick..." he breaks off indeed looking very green. But Dean's clear, boisterous peal of laughter is all worth it, Sam finds himself grinning.

"You're such a girl," Dean manages out between his laughs.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you," Sam whines with a reluctant smile on his face. "I knew you'd just laugh."

"Boy, you were right about that," Dean giggles, taking some deep breaths. He pants leaning, with his hands on his knees, "You sure you're good for this hunt though?"

"Of course," Sam answers, smiling watching Dean wipe tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. "I'm fine," he laughs, "It's nice to know my pain brings someone some entertainment."

Dean's only response is to laugh some more and shove Sam away by the shoulder. Sam shoves him back and then turns his attention back to the scenery around them, pushing hair from his eyes.

"You're right, it is pretty stunning." He sighs, "One would never suspect there was something so sinister stalking the surrounding forest."

Dean shoots him an exasperated look. "Your wording actually exhausts me."

Sam laughs at that and pulls the paper map out of his back pocket and unfolds it, smoothing it across the boulder they had been leaning on. He studies it a few moments consorting with his phone for their coordinates, finally places a finger down confidently in the middle of a red circle he'd drawn earlier.

"Okay, here's where we are, right in the middle of this Wendigo's hunting ground."

"Whoop dee doo," Dean says flatly, "Lucky us."

Sam shoots him a look. They both hated the woods and Wendigos, they were both in their least favorite or confident environment, facing the worst of the worst supernatural creature, trumped only by hell hounds and occasionally demons. There was no end to Dean's grumbling or Sam's apprehension when they got a Wendigo case, they both turned shifty and edgy. And just to top it off they'd never had a Wendigo case where they came out unscathed.

Wendigos made for nasty wounds and woods even more so, infection being swift and help farther away than ever. So Sam and Dean had packed extensive first aide gear and started out on this venture with heavier hearts than usual, dreading and preparing themselves for the trials they knew where coming. The only question was, how severe a trial exactly?

Sam sighs sharing his brother's less than exuberant feelings. And looks up at the sky, "We better get set up, as soon as it's dark we're sitting ducks."

Dean grunts in response and shoulders his bag again, "Sounds good, if it gets too late we can always camp out in the cave, it'll be good to get a solid wall behind our backs and it'll be some protection from the elements."

Sam shivers, "I hate caves."

"Same here Sammy, same here. But you know the only thing I hate worse than caves?"

Sam rolls his eyes, "Woods." Of course.

"Bingo little bro."

They glance at each other and sigh with the distastefulness of the situation. "Here goes nothing."

...

Dusk is setting over the mountains and everything around the Winchesters has gone eerily silent, only adding to their growing agitation. They've chosen their stake out carefully, an open space floored with ferns in the middle of four huge trees. Sam has written Asagi protection sigils in the dirt all around and etched them into the tall, proud trunks of the trees.

He finds his brother kneeling beside a pile of sticks and brush, patiently attempting to light a fire.

"Dean! What are you doing?" He asks alarmed. "You're gonna scare it away and we'll be stuck out here a whole other twenty-four hours."

Dean waves him off smiling as flames flare to life and the older Winchester starts adding some bigger logs. "If we start a fire, the one thing that actually kill it, the Wendigo will absolutely come and check us out Sam."

Sam stops and cocks his head to one side watching Dean with an impressed expression, "Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

Dean smirks.

Sam rolls his eyes and comes to join his brother by the growing flames. Holds his hands out to the warmth and Dean arches a brow at him, getting up and gathering their bags and weapons closer to the orange, flickering flames.

"Don't get too comfortable there, we still got a full night's work ahead of us."

"Looks like rain." Sam says softly, both of them reading the sky and wind like they'd both been brought up to.

Dean grunts in agreement, his eyes bright with the stinging of the wind and the firelight, Sam smiles at him through his hair blowing in his face.

Sam allows his eyes to shut and soak up the safe warmth of the flames before standing and grabbing his flare gun and placing his back against the trunk of one of the trees. Dean does the same opposite him and they share smiles that quickly turn determined and grim as the hunters in them take over.

There's a chilly wind the mountain is blowing down on them but they can't complain since it's sending their scent away from them instead of ahead or around. Dean is hard faced and scary across from Sam but he's not afraid, he's exhilarated, with each waiting moment his anticipation grows...the adrenaline building until the moment of the actual kill when it would explode in a massive rush that would more than likely make him fast enough to survive.

They both hold their breaths when a twig snaps close by, followed by a whirring sound...lightening fast footsteps rushing through the brush. The Winchester's eyes meet and Sam nods slowly, letting Dean know he's ready. The older Winchester steps away from his tree and plants himself beside the fire.

"Hey! Over here!" He taunts. "Come and get us you ugly son of a bitch, bet we taste good..." he hesitates and shrugs, "Well, maybe not Sam he probably tastes like mint leaves and cucumbers, but I know I taste good!"

Sam sends him a 'you're unbelievable' look and wraps his sweaty hands more carefully around the handhold of the flame thrower. They wait in the gathering silence until that whirring, whooshing sound is all around them and the hairs on the back of their necks are standing up. Sam stomach cramps with the waiting and thinking of all this beast of darkness was capable of, what it could do...what it had done.

And then its standing behind Dean and Sam's heart stops.

"Dean get down!" He yells as he raises the flare gun and presses the trigger.

His brother unerringly obeys him, drops like a log to the forest floor, but the flame thrower explodes into empty air flaming in the Wendigo's eyes where it stands just out of range watching them. Sam opens his mouth to warn Dean but it's too late, the creature wraps its clawed hand tight around his brother's ankle and their both gone into the murky night before Sam can blink.

"Dean!" Sam shouts desperately, needs some sort of sense of the direction they'd gone.

"Sam!" He brother yells back and Sam grabs their bags before sprinting off back the way they came towards the glassy lake and the cave there. From where Dean's voice had come. God, had they really been that stupid? Had that cave been the Wendigo's lair the whole time? They were lucky to still be alive.

When Sam arrives at the shore of the lake the water is disturbed. Ripples slowly waving out and the surface settling again. Sam holds his breath and listens. He can hear the water dripping in the cave, can hear it lapping at the rock walls where it's been disturbed and then a loud yell from Dean, choked out. And Sam can only imagine his panic at being drug through the icy water of the lake.

 _Be smart about this Sam_ , he tells himself. The Wendigo hadn't killed Dean, had just taken him which meant it was after someone to save for dinner at some later point in time. Sam needed to be quiet and careful stealing into the cave and retrieving his brother, didn't want to leave Dean helpless and vulnerable to the Wendigo while he tried to kill it single handedly; they would finish off the creature together.

He shoulders both their bags on one shoulder and takes carefully hold of another flare gun, holds it up close to his face as he edges around the lake and to the rock wall. There's a ledge and Sam carefully and quietly starts to edge his way towards the mouth of the cave.

The water is a smooth dark surface just below him and he shivers thinking of its freezing, dark depths. He's able to swing himself around the corner of the opening and inside, finds the cave is a lot bigger than he thought. On both sides of the water there is floor space littered with boulders and stick like shapes that crunch when he steps on them, Sam can only assume they are bones.

He drops the bags gently to the dry rock floor and stealthily begins to pad deeper into the cave. It's not entirely dark, moonlight getting in somewhere and reflecting on the water and all Sam's senses are heightened, his eyes and ears aching they strain so hard.

He is about twenty feet into the cave when the smell goes foul as death. No pun intended. Sam gags, his already sensitive stomach rebelling against the unnatural smell. He forces himself to be quiet with a fist in his mouth even as he steps on something that squelches wetly, a sweet rotting scent rising from under him soon after.

Sounds echo down to him from just a little further and he stops at the sight of Dean struggling to get away with Wendigo standing over him. His brother's ankle still held secure in its giant clawed hand now twisted at a strange angle. And Sam's heart jumps as the Wendigo back hands Dean across the face, spinning him completely around sending him crashing face first to the floor and splitting his cheek wide open.

Dean's eyes go hazy and when he doesn't get up Sam's inside burn with anger.

"Hey you bastard!" He shouts, majorly pissed off, "Pick on someone your own size!"

"Sam, no!" Dean calls out weakly struggling to pull himself up even as the Wendigo disappears from his side and in a breath is looking down on Sam, it's malevolent eyes boring into his and Sam doesn't flinch merely stabs his flare gun into the thing's emaciated stomach and shoots.

It screeches in anger and pain and pushes Sam away, sending him flying like a rag doll. His head snaps back against the rock ledge, the crack echoing through the whole cave as his limp body disappears under the murky depths of the lake with a splash.

"Sam!" Dean cries out, swaying as he gains his feet and throwing himself into the cold, black water where Sam had gone under.

 _Please let me find him._

...tbc

Confession time; fav supernatural baddie is Wendigos all the way. Idk why but those things fascinate me. Tell me what yours is, and if you think I should keep going with a REVIEW!?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Dean's world slows as he's surrounded by the freezing water. It's dark, he can see a vague light ahead through the water but he turns his back on it to dive deep. His hands reach out, fingers searching for anything...clothes, hands, feet or hair...anything that was his brother of belonged to him.

His air is beginning to run out when he feels something soft and flowing run through his fingertips, he sends out a silent apology to Sam as he grabs hold of his hair and his other hand reaches out to feel for the rest of Sam's body. Dean's arm snakes around his neck and down under his armpit, pulling Sam up against his chest, anchoring him close and safe.

Dean finds the rock wall and with a push of his feet he uses it to propel them towards the surface. Dean's lungs burn with lack of air and when they break into the air he desperately gasps in lungfuls. His heart crumbles with relief when Sam coughs weakly in his arms, neck still limp, head thrown back on his big brother's shoulder.

Dean manages to swim to the edge keeping Sam right there the whole time. Somehow he gets the top half of Sam's body up and onto the dry ground. He uses his upper body to pull himself out of the water and then drags Sam the rest of the way out of the frigid lake.

He grunts as he pushes his little brother over onto his side and Sam immediately coughs up water, his body shivering violently. The drops of water running from his hair and down his neck and over his face tinted red with blood.

From his kneeling stance Dean pulls Sam up into his arms to share some body heat with him, copying their position from just moments earlier, Sam's back against Dean chest and the older brother's arms safely wrapped around him. Sam's trembling hands come up to hang tight to Dean's wet sleeves.

"Where is it, where is it, Dean?" He gasps desperately through chattering teeth.

Dean closes his eyes with thankfulness as he hears Sam's voice and then he spots a steaming pile of foul ash a few yards away from them. "You got it Sammy, you got it. It's dead."

They sit gasping in breaths together, reveling in the moment of triumph. Sam's adrenaline is dying and Dean is scared because his eyes are drooping, his body temperature isn't rising and his shivering slowing.

"Sam, c'mon, can't go to sleep yet." he says, gently using the arm Sam was lying on to bring his face up, placing a hand on the top of his head. Even in the murky darkness Dean can see the crimson on his skin and feels the slickness of Sam's blood as he rubs his fingers together.

"'s cold Dean..." Sam gets out through his chattering teeth

"I know, I know," Dean consoles. "Let's stand up and get warm okay?"

"'kay." Sam slurs out sounding uncommitted, and Dean more or less hauls them both to their feet. Sam leans into him heavily and Dean hisses feeling a burning in his leg but ignores it in favor of keeping Sam upright and conscious.

"...Dean I'm gonna..." and Dean supports him as he's sick, leaning with a shaky hand against the rock wall. He spits and sways as he stands upright again.

"Woah there," Dean says gently knowing Sam's head is killing him. "C'mon big guy, where'd you leave the bags?"

"At the front," Sam mumbles, wiping at his eyes agitatedly. "Is this blood?"

"Yeah," Dean answers vaguely, having yet to find the source of that frightening waterfall.

"Your face." Sam reminds, as his boot gets caught on a rock from not lifting his heavy feeling feet high enough and they both nearly trip.

"Oh yeah," Dean grits out, "doesn't hurt too bad, forgot." He sighs with relief as he lowers Sam to sit at the mouth of the cave, helping him to lean back gently against the wall. Sam is complacent, never a good sign, as Dean guides his head back to rest on the stone.

Outside the cave a storm is upon them in full force, thunder booming and lightening making everything bright for a few seconds. The wind is howling, the tress waving wildly and Dean sighs, knowing they're stuck here until it's over but also so glad Sam's injuries didn't seem life threatening or else they'd be in real trouble.

"Need to take a look at it." Sam insists through blue lips and vision fading out as he tries to sit up again.

"You first princess," Dean says easily, pushing him back gently. "I'll be fine for a few minutes," even as he feels blood trickling silkily down his neck. "Where are you bleeding from? Can you feel it?" He asks, rummaging around in their bags for something to dry the water in Sam's hair with.

"On the right side I think." Sam says softly, "Itches."

Dean finds a bandana and after turning on a small flashlight and sticking it between his teeth, he pats the hair on the right side of Sam's head dry, then gently runs his fingers through it peering to see the wound.

He takes the light from his mouth and rips open a bandage and tenderly presses it to the gash in Sam's scalp. "Hold this." He commands and leads Sam's hand up to keep the quickly turning red bandage in place.

Sam grunts in acknowledgement and leans his aching head into his hand and the soft bandage. Dean uses the flashlight to check his eyes and Sam whines in his throat at that, Dean chuckles and pats his knee comfortingly.

"You good everywhere else? What about your ribs, that was your bad shoulder wasn't it?" He asks as he starts gathering the medical supplies back and packing them again.

"A lil sore," Sam admits, "Maybe a cracked rib or two, nothing too bad. I'll be great once everything stops spinning and I can stand up straight."

"Aww," Dean says sweetly, "I'll stand for you Sammy."

Sam rolls his eyes, which makes him wince, "Whatever."

"You know me," Dean says, sitting beside Sam, "Always saving your ass, being the knight and shining armor...it's okay I can do it for ya Sammy."

"Pfft," Sam huffs with a laugh, leaning into Dean until they're shoulder to shoulder for warmth. "I'm just making opportunity for some hurt BAMF Dean."

Dean sends him a look. "Sammm," he whines, "I told you to stop reading that fanfiction crap."

"I know you did, but it's funny," Sam whines back, resting his head down on Dean's shoulder and just as he knows it would, it softens Dean into gooey, protective big brother all over again.

"Ugh, you're so lame," Dean groans but doesn't shove Sam off or tease him anymore about reading fanfiction. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again, seeing Sam slamming into the rock before tumbling into the water again, thinks of every second it took him to bring Sam to the surface...thinks how the last place he'd had a signal on his phone was where they left the impala, thinks back to his earlier joke about water in his little brother's lungs. One day he's going to learn to shut up.

"I'm gonna be okay as long as you stay right there and don't move," Sam says, nuzzling closer to Dean's shoulder and body heat.

Dean chuckles, "Okay lover boy, stay on your half of the cave."

Sam joins him in a laugh and sighs, feeling content for their situation and the boys watch as the storm rages on just outside.

Dean stays still for Sam, but his left leg is itching like hell...the same leg the Wendigo had taken such a grip of. He feels himself shivering and is glad, hopes he'll be warming up soon. Because Sam isn't giving off much heat, shivering violently himself. He's knows it won't be good if they're stuck here wet and cold all night.

And Sam's right about sore.

Dean is aching from being drug through the forest floor, into the cold water and cave. His numb and cold body is having trouble registering pain but he's starting to sting all over from small scratches, there's already a rasp in his lungs when he breathes and his face hurts like a bitch. His jaw throbbing, and the wide open slice in his cheek burns with a freezing pain.

He leans subtly into Sam's small warmth and allows himself a few moments of rest, and Sam to take comfort from him. He takes careful stock of their situation and their supplies, is happy to say he doesn't think Sam's in any immediate danger. Just cold and wet and scared from losing Dean for those few short seconds. And Dean is too, God, that moment when Sam had disappeared into the water and Dean could only see him through his mind's eye, cold and white under the dark waters, kaleidoscope eyes frozen open and empty.

Dean shudders and allows himself to slip an arm around Sam's shivering shoulders and pull him closer.

"God its cold," Sam stutters out, sounding surprised, as if he's forgotten how cold he could get.

"I know," Dean comforts, rubbing his hand up and down Sam's arm vigorously. "Wanna walk around for a bit? Warm up?"

"Yeah," Sam agrees, tenderly pulling the bandage from his head. "Maybe that's a good idea."

Dean pulls himself up and then offers his hand to Sam, helping him upright. Dean's glad Sam's smart enough to allow Dean a healthy hold on him and keeps his on arm around Dean's shoulder letting his big brother carry some of his weight.

Dean's left leg gives out the first time he puts their weight on it, but he catches himself on the cave wall. Sam closes his eyes with the sharp movement making his head pulse with pain but takes some of his weight off Dean. Dean bites his bottom lip and he tastes the new metallic of blood from the reopened wound where the Wendigo had slapped him and busted his lips open against his teeth.

"You okay?" Sam asks, suspicion in his voice and now that Dean thinks of it, he probably should have taken a look at that leg. Remembers the burning sensation as the creature wrapped its talons around his leg and pulled cruelly. The way it had twisted and _cracked_ as he struggled.

"Yeah," he answers Sam easily, even as bile rises in the back of his throat as he puts the leg down again to take another step. "Yeah I'm good, just like you said...a bit sore."

He takes the small flashlight and flicks it on, lighting their way as they hobble deeper into the cave. He can tell Sam is already feeling better, his body coming back on track and working harder as they move and he's forced to utilize all his faculties again.

Sam stands straighter and takes more of his weight, his eyes loose some of their haziness and snap with curiosity and intelligence again. Dean tenses and feels his little brother do the same as they come to a stop their light illuminating a tall cavern they hadn't discovered before.

The floor is littered with skeletons and not so old corpses. The horrid, sweet rotting smell stronger than ever. Sam leaves Dean's side hurrying over to three hanging figures strung up like meat on display. His fingers on an urgent quest to find pulses.

"They're gone." He whispers almost to himself sadly.

Without Sam Dean finds himself swaying, black spots appearing in his vision and as he steps back onto his leg trying to regain his balance he feels pain like hot knives tear through the damaged limb. He swallows around the lump in his throat and the burning wetness in his eyes as Sam shines his own flashlight around the large stone room.

"Dean..."

That gets Dean's attention quick as lightening, the hard, quiet almost frightened tones of his little brother demanding his total focus. Dean follows Sam's gaze around the room, finally letting the amount of bodies littering the floor space to sink in.

"...there are way too many bodies here just for one Wendigo." Sam says hushed, like he's scared saying it out loud will make it inevitably true.

Dean is shining his light around studying the corpses closest to him, notices a difference in the kills. Some of the victims were slashed clean and cold across the throats, others were completely demolished even their bones cut clean through. A completely different MO for two completely different killers.

As he shines the flashlight around it catches on a pool of water and reflects back brightly up at him. He sees his own reflection, but more importantly and clearly his leg. The jean is completely darkened...it clicks with Dean long last, darkened with blood.

He finally takes time to notice the growing pool under his booted foot and sees the slashes in the leather and in his jeans pant leg. Shock is setting in as he notices his final wound, the awkward angle his foot stands at, the tightness of the shaft of his boot around his ankle...more importantly how swollen it must be.

"Sam..." He chokes out. Cold washing over his body with the shock, with the blood loss...his strength finally used up. His brain rebelling against the idea it had been hurt but unable to refute the evidence, his eyes widen and his breaths quicken with panic as he thinks about he and Sam stuck in a cave, both badly wounded, with another Wendigo.

"I think we might have another problem..."

Sam barely makes it as he jumps to catch him; but Dean falls into his baby brother's arms instead of the wet, cold stone floor of the cave below them.

...tbc

This is turning out a bit different then what I usually do. But I'm liking it. How about you? REVIEW?!

(To suicidalunicorn97; yes I watched and loved Lights Out! The whole time I was thinking the same thing about Wendigo's. She was pretty scary but a really good monster! It can't be a coincidence that the best horror movie monster last year was so like a Wendigo...it's official they really are the best!;);)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

He should have seen it coming. Seriously, how many times has Dean slipped an injury under Sam's radar in the past? How many times has Sam not looked hard enough? Though it may seem unfair, Sam blamed himself when Dean's hurts went unnoticed. He blamed himself for Dean wanting to hide his wounds, because he knew Dean was trying to be strong for him.

It was something Dean had grown up into doing...being strong and unreadable...a superhero for Sam to look up to and depend on. If Sam thought Dean was undefeatable then he wouldn't worry about the rest of the world and would stay a kid locked inside his own head.

And that's exactly what had happened. The world had come crashing down around Sam's ears the first time he'd participated in a hunt and Dean had been hurt. If Dean could be hurt, then so could he...and if they could be hurt other people, good people could and that wasn't right.

Dean still tried to shield Sam from some things, like his own injuries. Dean was of the false opinion that his wounds didn't matter as much as Sam's and that his little brother shouldn't be bothered with his hurt.

It was something Sam was constantly trying to reprogram in Dean, but had yet to have any success. So Sam had to rat out Dean's hurts, had to watch carefully to see if Dean took any hits from the baddie of the week or else his big brother would silent suffer happily just so that Sam could have some peace of mind.

But Sam had been distracted and blinded by the blows he'd taken. Could hardly see anything as Dean dragged him from the frigid water and to his feet, had taken a few minutes for him to even remember Dean had been taken from him by the Wendigo.

When he first spots Dean looking white and swaying precariously on his feet in the large cavern, Sam had been confused. Dean had seen worse carnage before, but he knows that look all too well. The look that cuts through Sam and fills him with the worst of fears. The look Dean wears when he's hurt bad enough to fess up to it.

He jumps to catch his big brother as Dean's legs suddenly give out. But that's not what scares him the most, it's the whites of his eyes that Sam sees as Dean's eyes roll back into his head as he passes out. Sam huffs a little as he bears Dean's full weight and he slowly lowers them both to the disgusting floor, thanks his lucky stars that are for once seemingly in his favor, that it seems his unavoidable concussion is taking a holiday for a few minutes.

He feels much better now that Dean had gotten them up and moving around and he smiles at the thought, Dean always knew what to do to make him feel better.

But now Dean is lying still and white in his arms and Sam's heart is beating fast, his mind racing trying to figure out where and what went wrong. He takes a deep breath and gently situates Dean's head so that the gash on his face isn't pressed into Sam's half dry jacket, he knows that's got to hurt like a bitch.

The wound is dirty making Sam worry all the more, but knows there's nothing they can really do about it out here in the woods. He sees that Dean has some scratches and tears in his clothes, grits his teeth thinking of his brother being drug over the forest floor like trash. That's when his eyes land on Dean's mangled limb. He swallows thickly before leaning over, Dean still safely cradled against him, and fingers the tears in the jean material.

"Jesus." Sam mutters, fingertips coming away rusty red, and seeing the gashes in his brother boot, shuddering thinking of the possibilities. "What did it to you?" He asks his unconscious sibling.

Deft fingers quickly undo the laces of Dean's boot and tries to pull it off gently. Nothing gives and feeling over Dean's foot Sam knows it's swollen to hell under the blood soaked leather. He shimmies out of his coat and folds it, slips from under his brother and places Dean's head gently on the material.

Sam takes a deep breath as he kneels beside Dean's leg. Supports the wounded foot under his the heel and gently coaxes the boot off. Dean groans and Sam freezes just before pulling the shoe completely free. Blood dribbles out of the boot from where Sam leaves it overturned on its side.

He's too busy staring at Dean's sliced open skin.

White bone winks at him through red slashes of raw flesh and Sam gags before getting a hold of himself. The cuts begin on Dean's lower calf before, with sick grace, they circle around his ankle and down the side of his foot. Sam has no idea how his brother has even been conscious let alone walking on the foot.

Dean had jumped into the lake to save him, had dragged him from a watery death and taken care of his head wound all with this severe of an injury. Sam knows Dean's body had probably blocked out the pain as a defense but Sam is genuinely frightened thinking of all the blood Dean's lost.

He looks back over his shoulder thinking of the other Wendigo probably not far away and all their supplies and weapons too far away at the opening of the cave along with the medical supplies Sam needs for Dean. But he can't leave Dean alone and vulnerable, not with supernatural creatures stalking the unknown shadows of these woods.

His hands hover useless over the still oozing wounds, knows this dirty place is swimming with germs and infection. Other bodies close by crawling and squiggling with maggots, Dean had jumped into the lake water to save Sam...there was no way of knowing what kind of viruses lived unknown in those dark waters...how many forgotten corpses had gone to rest in it.

Sam knows time is against them. They are weakened and without advantage here. If the other Wendigo comes back they would quickly change from being hunters to the hunted. Sam knows he has to get them back to the mouth of the cave, to their weapons and supplies, to civilization and help. Because no matter what Dean does or says, as soon as Sam is able he's calling for an ambulance and making sure he's brother gets anti-biotics and an IV for at least twenty-four hours.

"Stay with me Dean," he mutters, as he pulls his brother back into his arms and stands, using the wall behind them to support him as his head swims dizzily. "God, you weigh a ton when it counts." He grits out through his clenched teeth as he stumbles back the way they came. Dean doesn't respond, if anything becomes an even more dead weight, his head lolling back on his neck and Sam shifts him as gently as he can rolling it to lay on Sam's shoulder, his cold and clammy forehead resting against Sam's neck.

Sam is breathing heavily as he walks by the water's edge. Cutting his eyes at the freezing, murky depths nervously, shivering, feeling it surrounding him all over again like an icy ghost. He doubts he and Dean would survive another dunking in the frigid water, he hugs his brother closer to him and walks nearly against the cave wall.

He gasps with relief as he sees the dark midnight bluish light not far ahead that is the cave opening, the rain still pouring down, thunder grumbling. Water falling from the cave ceiling drips into his hair which has fallen into his eyes, he grunts in frustration jerking his head trying to flick it out of his vision. He lets out a groan as he he hits his knees beside their bags, Dean sliding a little out of his hold, jarring a moan out of him and driving him back to consciousness.

His eyes find Dean's wide and terrified focused over to their left just as he hears the first low, menacing growl; the other Wendigo.

The creature stands just a few feet away. Tall...the biggest Wendigo Sam's ever had the grim pleasure of meeting. His mouth open on a snarl, lips nonexistent, messy and rimmed with blood, junks of flesh lodged between the razor sharp teeth, drips of crimson red rain water running from its eighteen inch long claws.

It's eyes meet Sam's and the younger hunter freezes, praying the stillness will keep it calm instead of frenzied. He has no weapon, Dean is vulnerable and handicapped just inches behind him and then the Wendigo sniffs. And Sam's heart sinks.

He watches the creatures eyes light up with the fresh scent of Dean's still gushing blood. Sam already knows there is no moving fast enough, there is no way to save them now...

"Sam get down!" He hears his brother yell and then he feels Dean pushing him roughly down and away as he surges forward...towards the charging Wendigo. Dean must have armed himself with a new and dry flare gun after they had taken their swim in the icy lake.

Sam hears a flare go off but his ears are filled with something much bigger, much more important...Dean screaming in agony. The Wendigo's claws are impaled through his right arm, dripping blood off their tips where they are protruding through the other side.

"Dean!" He shouts jumping back towards him even as the Wendigo screeches, going up in flames, it's claws turning to ash in Dean's flesh. Sam throws himself over Dean's fallen figure as the charred remains of their foe rain down on top of them.

Dean lets out a sob, his body thrashing, delirious with agony. Sam watches the dark puddle growing under his shoulder, and he can't breathe...can't. Tears are making streaks through the dirt and grim on Dean's face, his teeth are clenched like vices, but his lips bleed where he bit them. His eyes are nearly shut but Sam can catch the wild expression there...the wild, lost look and Sam knew he was about lose him to the agony...the cold, the blood loss, the infection that is heating Dean's body up under Sam's very hands.

"Dean, stay with me," he demands in unsteady tones.

"Please don't leave me," he pleads, tears filling his eyes and Dean jumps with his voice, his eyes roving desperately a millisecond before he goes utterly limp and then his body begins the shake violently.

...tbc

Wowzers...well that happened. REVIEW!?;);)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

The rain is pouring down, making the murky darkness even more obscure. Lightening flashes, lighting up the cave walls periodically, thunder rumbles, echoing through it. Outside the trees wave around wildly in the wind which whistles and calls as it dances around. It's the power of nature and there's something terrifying and glorious about it.

Sam watches safely under the protection of the cave. His eyes, tired and aching from his concussion are overwhelmed by everything going on before him, but he doesn't look away, seems to be looking into nothing. The wind blows his hair around his face, lends coolness to the still wet patches on his clothes, sends chills skittering down his spine.

His brother's upper body and head lying in his lap, his arms still wrapped tightly around him for protection. Sam's not letting him go, even as Dean shakes with the cold and fever and sometimes he fights Sam, his forehead scrunched up in response to his fever dreams but the younger Winchester just keeps him close.

He's wrapped Dean's foot and shoulder as best he can, both wounds hot to the touch and even in the darkness Sam can see the filth lining the raw walls of flesh. He'd covered the terrifying wounds with clean gauze that looked totally out of place in the nasty cave. He wrapped Dean up in his coat on top of his own and holding him close, just prays that waiting out the storm is the right choice.

Sam is listening so so hard to Dean's rushed shallow breaths, and the sound of his lips slipping together wetly with his shivers and the thunder getting farther and farther away. His bottom lip caught in his teeth watching the rain slowly dissipating, his mind racing trying to think of the best way to get he and Dean back to civilization and help.

Sam checks his phone to find it five-thirty in morning and he takes the gamble that the rain is done and gone. He shifts Dean gently getting ready to rise, knows the fireman's carry he's about to use on Dean will hurt badly. Looking into Dean's face he smooths a hand over the side of his face and pushes the damp hair up off his heated forehead.

"'m sorry Dean," he apologizes in advance. "But you can't wait any longer."

Sam grunts as he struggles to pull Dean over his shoulder and onto his back. He gets it more or less, it would be a lot easier if everything wasn't spinning a little, and if his stomach was cramping and rolling. But the important thing is to get Dean to help and if this was how it had to happen so be it. Once he's certain Dean isn't falling off he grabs their bags, turns on a flashlight and heads out into the darkness.

"Please hold on Dean," he whispers into the black, dripping woods.

...

Emery had responded to a lot of outdoor emergencies in his years working as an EMT in the Colorado mountains, but he'll never forget the pair he found collapsed next to their classic American job. The two men had succumbed to their injuries tangled up with each other. Their blood combined in the dirt and mud coating their skin and clothes.

And when the EMT had gone to help the taller one had been leaning against the side of the car floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, but the shorter, though older one was white, shivering and barely breathing carefully laid out over the larger man's lap, his face turned upwards a large slice in his cheek on display. But the EMT knew he had been situated that way on purpose to kept the wound from being aggravated.

At first Emery had taken them for lovers. But then he and his coworker had tried to lift the unconscious man from his companion's legs and the reaction had primal, like a mother bear. The dirt and grime coating the man's face with his long hair hanging down over his shining eyes lent him an insane look and when he bared his teeth at them, growling under his breath and hugging the other man closer to him Emery jerked back in surprise and fear.

That was also when he knew...they were brothers.

He places a tentative hand on the large man's shoulder and looks him steadily in the eye, "We're here to help," he impresses. "You called 911 remember? Can you tell me your name?"

The shaggy headed man nods shakily and swallows looking down at the figure in his arms. "Sam," he's says roughly, and Emery can hear the cold there, the rawness of his throat. "My name's Sam."

"Who's your friend?" Emery asks softly, slowly reaching out his head to smooth his gloved hand over the fallen man's forehead. Burning up.

"Dean." Sam says more clearly, his eyes taking on more life, "...my big brother." His voice catches then and the pure love and panic in Sam's eyes as he pulls Dean up against his chest even tighter hits Emery like a smack in the gut. "You have to help us..." Sam stutters out, his tear rimmed eyes finding the EMT's face and his hand latching onto his windbreaker. "Dean doesn't have long, we had to wait all night in the cave, and it was too cold and De..."

"It's okay," Emery soothes, "We're here to help you...Sam," he states clearly, "You have to let Dean go, we can't help him unless you let him go."

Sam nods swallowing thickly, and allows Emery to pull his brother off his legs and into his own arms. Sam's eyes never stray as he watches everything the EMTs do to his brother, but he doesn't move himself and Emery can see from the way he's convulsively swallowing and his eyes shrinking with the sunlight that this man hadn't had last night easy either.

He kneels down next to him. "Let's take a look at you, yeah?" He asks, as he fingers at the blood coated side of his head, Sam allows him close, but his eyes never leave Dean's figure as he's being rolled away into the ambulance.

"You, you have to let me ride with him." Sam suddenly says desperately, trying to rise, fighting against Emery's restraining hand on his chest. "He'll freak out if I'm not there, I need to make sure he's alright...he's got to be alright..." he breaks off. The exhausted tears slipping from his wild looking eyes touching Emery down to his very core.

"Okay, okay," the EMT comforts, knows he can't fight this man, can't keep him from his brother. "We can move this to the ambulance."

Sam allows himself to be more or less dragged into the ambulance and he sits as close to his brother as he possibly can. As the doors swing shut behind them and the engine starts up, taking them to the hospital Sam slumps in on himself. He's got a hand beside Dean's head, his thumb resting on the oxygen mask over his face.

Finally...finally they were safe.

Emery had seen it happen before but never this fast. The body having run so long and strong in survival once safe lets the shock kick in. Sam's body starts shivering, his hands shaking as he presses the palm of one to his aching head. He tries to catch himself but ends up just losing his balance even more. Sam slumps over his brother's still form on the gurney before Emery can catch him.

...

The hospital is small so it isn't too hard to convince the staff to allow the two men in one room together. Sam is left simply lying on his bed clothed in a gown and under warm covers, clean he looks like a different person but even in his drug induced sleep he's turned, rolled over on his side towards his brother, his lips parted and gentle restful breaths escaping with a quiet whoosh.

Dean is a different story. His IV leaves another bluish bruise on his skin where its slipped in, antibiotics for the infection and drugs for the pain filling his blood stream. There's an oxygen cannula in his nose to help with the scratchiness of his lungs and the shallowness of his breaths wheezing out.

There's a large white bandage over his right arm and shoulder, and if Emery could have seen under the electric blanket fighting against the chills running through the young man's body he'd have seen the white gauze wrapping the bottom half of his calf and his entire foot. The ugly wound on the rather handsome man's face had been stitched up but still looked bad, purple bruising straying from it and over that entire side of his face.

Emery sets down their wallets and phones he'd come to return as an excuse to look in on them, tries to decipher whose is whose but gives up in favor of flipping through their wallets and looking for names. He doesn't find what he expected. He'd be surprised if they themselves could keep track of who they were.

There wasn't a single identity that matched except...in the back of their wallets they each had an old beat up, out of date driver's license. One Dean Winchester and one Sam Winchester. The boyish features on the cards and the hard lines in their faces now let Emery know many years and many tragedies had passed since then...and he wondered why these seemingly efficient con men would take the risk of keeping one official identification.

He turned them over and found the reason. On the back of each card scribbled in the same hand writing were the same exact words; _don't make me regret this._ That was a father's warning right there. Emery smiles at the thought of these two tough looking guys being cowed by their father and threatened with having their license taken away. Smiles thinking of them saving those driver's licenses even after all this time probably in memory of their dad.

His eyes fall from one brother's face to the other. Even as Dean fought for strength to live on his head was turned towards his little brother. They had obviously fought so incredibly hard to survive, fought for each other to survive. Emery finds himself doubting in his heart of hearts that theses men were inherently bad. He slips everything back into their wallets as if they had never been disturbed.

Dean stirs a little in his rest, and Emery is able to catch the hummed word, "S'mmm..."

He smiles softly as Sam stirs in answer, smacking his lips and groaning a little under his breath in his sleep, seems to detect that nothing is actually amiss and slips back into oblivion.

He leaves the room, stopping to look back at them in the door way. "Don't make me regret this..." he mumbles under his breath as he walks away and swears he'll keep their secret. And somehow deep down he knows they won't and he won't regret it.

...

The first thing Sam knows is that it's heavenly warm wherever he is. He rubs his face deeper into the soft pillow under his head and allows himself to cuddle into the warm covers. Then he remembers. Remembers calling 911 and remembers Dean unconscious and bleeding out on his very lap.

His eyes flash open. And the first thing they land on is Dean lying in the bed a couple of feet away from him. Everything in him relaxes as he finds his brother close by and safe. But when he sees all the equipment attached to Dean and hears his heavy breathing he swallows convulsively his apprehension rising again.

Sam throws the covers off his legs and rises, a hand griping the railing on the bed tightly as his head swims a little. He takes the few steps to Dean's bed and uses the rails to keep himself up, finds himself leaning a little to look into his brother's bruised face.

"Dean," he whispers in relieved disbelief. He lets his fingers brush feather soft across the ugly stitches on Dean's cheek. "Can't believe we made it." He says gently. Because honestly there at the end he'd thought for a brief second that this might be how they go down.

Thankful tears fill his eyes thinking about it. He thinks back to everything Dean had done to get them there, thinks of the wounds he bore because he had been taking care of Sam and he gently presses his hand to the uninjured side of Dean's face.

"Thank you," he whispers with a gentle smile. "Thank you so much."

He watches in awe as Dean stirs, his little brother's voice calling to him. Dean turns his face into Sam's warm calloused palm and smacks his lips slowly coming back to the land of living. And Sam can see the exact moment the pain registers with his brother again.

Dean frowns and grimaces, showing his teeth as he shifts under the warmth of the blankets on top of him. Sam watches, his heart filling the bursting point, as Dean's eyes lazily blink open and those vibrant, emerald green eyes come into view.

"Hey Dean." He says softly, "You back with me?"

Dean grunts noncommittally under his breath and Sam grabs a plastic cup and fills it with some water from the sink. He holds it as Dean's strains to sit himself up a little to drink. His brother is panting with exhaustion by the time he's done and Sam gently lowers him back down to the mattress.

"You 'kay?" Dean asks in a hoarse whisper as his eyes are already closing again.

"Don't worry," Sam says, "You don't have to do anything but rest, god knows, you've done enough..."

And he remembers their playful conversation from before...that Sam was just getting into trouble to make opportunity for Dean to show off his BAMF...but right now Sam really wishes he, humanity, the world and the universe would just stop. Because Dean has done more than enough.

He's stood up for the innocent, stood up to the bad guys even if they were bigger, taller and stronger than him. Protected Sam without restraint, always put Sam first, loved him and cherished him without any consideration to his own well being...and that's exactly what makes Dean the bigger and stronger hero of every story isn't it? Or as he prefers; the badass.

THE END

There we go all done! last chapter so...REVIEW!?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO KRISTEN! :):):) may you have many more years of happy fangirling;);)

This story i really wanted to knock on the fourth wall there, since I've never really done that before. :) And I usually draw my stories out but like a lot of you commented I wanted this to feel like an episode, fast paced with some bro feels and with some hurt BAMF Dean! Lemme know how I did? So cheers and see you soon!


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